The Mikaelsons as Political Animals
by liarfaker
Summary: Divorced former First Lady Esther Mikaelson is currently serving as the Secretary of State. She finds an unlikely ally in a D.C. journalist Caroline Forbes who had previously dedicated herself to tearing the Mikaelson family to pieces. /a series of drabbles
1. Chapter 1

liarfaker presents

**The Mikaelsons as Political Animals **drabble series

* * *

**Full summary of the general idea**:

Divorced former First Lady Esther Mikaelson is currently serving as the Secretary of State. She finds an unlikely ally in a D.C. journalist Caroline Forbes who had previously dedicated herself to tearing the Mikaelson family to pieces.

Caroline enters the family which consists of a divorced matriarch who still harbors some feelings for her womanizer ex-husband; two badboy sons who probably take after their father; two ideal sons who most certainly take after their mother, and an emotional daughter who loves too easily and too recklessly. When Caroline discovers the truth about Esther's old extramarital affair and the real history of Klaus' parentage, her relations with Klaus become even more tense. As if they didn't hate each other enough already.

_"When this breaks every reporter in the world will want to know your answer."_

And so the campaign shit hits the fan.

* * *

**.**

**#1**

**.**

When Caroline Forbes crosses the threshold of the Mikaelson mansion, she's astonished by the actual luxury the family lives in.

In the small town of Mystic Falls nobody dreamed of marble floors and stairs so high even Cinderella would get dizzy. Crystal chandeliers hanging under the high ceiling make Caroline feel so small.

She's surrounded by millions of dollars. And she wouldn't be Caroline Forbes if she didn't run into an arm-less statue of a naked woman. (Because, quoting Esther Mikaelson the patron saint of arts and whatnot, thanks to art this world still has a soul.)

The string quartet could pick up the tempo, though. It's an engagement party, not a funeral, right? Political créme de la créme doesn't seem to mind, of course. God forbid.

"Caroline!" She hears a familiar voice, low and soft, that of a caring mother. But don't let appearances mislead you. This woman is a predator. She is the goddamn—

"Madam Secretary."

"_Esther_, please. I'm so glad you could make it with that busy schedule of yours."

"Yeah. Me too."

It's not like Caroline's been preparing for this since Monday, trying on dress after dress and driving her make-up artist aka best friend Bonnie crazy.

"Don't you think the future bride looks absolutely amazing tonight?" Esther coos and nods at the young, fragile brunette standing in a circle of photographers. Her glittering choco-gold dress fits like a glove. She musters a shy smile at the camera. Just when her fiancé joins her in front of the press she finally stands up taller arching her back, her smile becoming braver.

"Ah, the lovebirds. Time for the toast."

Caroline is again left alone in the crowd, suddenly feeling like a poor party-crasher in her strawberry pink cocktail dress. Nobody told her it was supposed to be a freaking _fairytale ball_.

In the furthest corner of the room, two pairs of eyes are following Caroline's steps. The brown ones watch her with interest, the blue ones—with annoyance.

"I remember her from some press conference. She looks like a tasty little thing."

"I can't believe mother did that to us." The blue-eyed sighs in disbelief.

"Look at those curves, Klaus. I'd gladly grant her a private interview. In my bedroom."

"Say another word, you traitor, and I'll tear out your liver."

The silver clings against the glass, which means the announcement is coming. Esther Mikaelson stands at the top of the marble stairs, towering over the excited mass. Her eyes search for something—someone?—for a second, then darken a little before she blinks and she's the hostess again.

"Good Evening, ladies and gentlemen. Waiters are coming around with champagne. I invite you all to join me in raising a glass. It provides me with no greater joy then to see my family back together as one. A mother's the happiest when all her children are back home, especially for such a _momentous_ occasion. Elena, Elijah, I wish you provide us with many more of them." She sends them a warm, meaningful smile. Elena Gilbert blushes. "I'd like to thank you all for being part of this spectacular evening. Cheers!"

Caroline stands by a column nervously squeezing the black satin clutch in her hands. Tonight, Caroline reminds herself, she's a guest. Tonight's the time to bond with the family she'll be a part of from now on. That's the deal with Esther. The proverbial peace pipe.

Easier said than done, she thinks when someone clears their throat behind her back and she's already rolling her eyes while turning away.

"Good evening."

Seriously? She definitely needs a drink.

.

.

.

* * *

**A/N:** It's just a kind of experiment. Let's see how it goes.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thank you guys for the reviews. Looks like writing short stuff is easier for me nowadays.

.

**.**

**#2**

**.**

"What are you doing?" She frowns when Klaus' hand lands on her lower back and the other _hijacks_ Caroline's left one.

He just smirks at her confused expression. "I could ask you the same question."

They waltz around the room, out of sync, her steps always a second behind him. Like all Mikaelson children, Klaus spent much of his childhood and also the last eight years of his life in England, because nobody can stand being a politician's son all the time. So he probably entertained the Queen cavorting around the ballrooms with a teacup in his hand and his pinky lifted. Oh, and wearing a _wig._ Caroline holds back a giggle.

Klaus stretches his arm and turns her around like she's but a doll. "If you're here, it means my mother invited you. If she invited you, she must've had a good reason. Now be so kind and enlighten me—why?"

She stares at him like he's the only one in the entire room who did not get the joke.

"I'm here to cover the campaign. _Obviously_."

He literally trips over his own feet.

(It's the moment when the orchestra finally picks up the tempo, so it looks like an avant-garde move. Some people are just lucky.)

"Obviously," he scoffs, "I don't know what you're talking about. If you leak false info to the press—"

Caroline shakes her head at him. "You don't have to treat me like an enemy." She gives him a conspiratorial, just-between-us-spies look. "I'm privy to your mother's plan."

The music fades, and so does Klaus' arrogant smirk. If Caroline knew him better, she would know it's better to run now. Run for your life, because Klaus Mikaelson just received some bad news.

His body gets so tense she can feel him losing the rhythm.

Suddenly it's Caroline who's being a ballroom dancer not thinking much about it. It's her who glides over the floor and gracefully swirls around exposing her delicate neck. In case you 're wondering, she did have training. Just long, long time ago.

"My mother's plan. Of course." He mutters.

She nods and leans forward. "I'm actually a part of it," she whispers.

That's it. He's done. He freezes in his place angrily clenching his fists. A short "Excuse me" is all he can muster before he turns on his heel and leaves her in the corner of the ballroom while the orchestra gets back to its slow, funeral-like tune.

Caroline pouts, crossing her arms. "Great." Not that she enjoys his company, but being a wallflower at rich people's parties is a new thing to her. She used to write about the top bananas, but she has never socialized with them before. For Caroline Forbes watching without interacting is simply boring.

But soon she learns there ain't no party like a Mikaelson party. She hardly manages to get another drink when the main door bursts open and a well-known face appears baring his teeth in a million-dollar smile. Loved by the masses—mostly because he's charming. Respected by his opponents because he's a tough negotiator. Hated by his opponents because he's clever. Hated by the masses because he's never even tried to be discrete about the biggest of his flaws.

Ladies and gentleman, the former president of the United States of America, Mikael Mikaelson.

(With his plus one, Hayley Marshall, a model and a— Okay, let's stick with a model for now.)

Caroline watches Esther Mikaelson out of the corner of her eye. The Secretary of State holds her head high, her chin's up, but her eyes say what only a betrayed woman could understand.

"I _sooo_ get you, believe me." Caroline sighs to herself.

Meanwhile, Klaus joins Esther at the top of the stairs. "We need to talk." He says through the gritted teeth.

His mother stares blankly at the crowd for a while before turning to Klaus with her classic number five smile that covers whatever feelings she might be experiencing now. It's been there for ages, that smile. Her children know it all too well. "I totally agree. But not now."

"Why not?"

"Because your father has arrived with his—" Esther takes a sharp breath, but then instantly regains her regal composure. "With Miss Marshall."

While everyone's looking at the former President, Caroline's gaze is fixed at a President's son.

The cocky, supercilious Klaus Mikaelson is looking seriously pissed off right now.


End file.
